Only a Cat of a Different Coat
by Duesal Bladesinger
Summary: A Ser Pounce SI.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** _This idea was suggested by Landb on SpaceBattles, and I simply couldn't resist writing it._

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 **Only a Cat of a Different Coat**

 **A Ser Pounce SI**

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I am not a cat person.

That doesn't mean I _hate_ cats, necessarily. I just never really saw the appeal in having to clean up hairballs, scoop out a litter box, and dispose of the remnants of the cat's murder sprees. Yeah, cats are vicious and filthy little buggers.

It's just my luck that I woke up in the body of one.

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When I opened my eyes, I immediately knew something was off.

The colors around me were muted, just a tad darker than I was used to, but everything was so much _sharper_ in my sight. Weird...

I guess that made my disorientation even worse when I realized where I was. I looked around and saw a richly-decorated room I didn't recognize, almost like some sort of Medieval or Renaissance-styled hotel room with stone walls and tapestries. The furniture was expertly carved, with elaborate designs of animals and plants worked into the wood. The bed I'd apparently been placed in was silky soft with red curtains elaborately embroidered with gold-colored thread on all sides, although they'd been tied against the bed posts.

... Now that I paused to think about it, for some reason everything looked much bigger than I was used to. Like, _much_ bigger, like it'd been built for people at least ten times the normal height. What the fuck?

I rolled off my back and froze.

I wasn't wearing clothes. I was covered in thick black fur. As if that wasn't enough, I wasn't even _shaped_ like a human. I had paws. I had a _fucking tail_.

My voice croaked in pure disbelief and all that came out was, "Mreow?"

Oh my fucking god, I was a cat. I was a _fucking cat!_

The resulting howl probably woke up everyone within three square miles.

"Aah! Ser Pounce, what is it?!"

I whipped my head toward the young, boyish voice to see a chubby blond kid who couldn't be older than six emerge from the covers with wide eyes and an alarmed expression. I wasn't in the mood for strangers, especially strangers that had probably done this to me in the first place. The rational part of me suggested that it was highly unlikely that a six-year-old child had any part in an experiment that got me stuck in a cat's body. The rest of me beat my rational part bloody and duct taped his mouth shut before shoving him in a closet somewhere in the back of my mind.

I hissed at the kid, feeling every little hair stand on end with my fear and anger. I registered the way he flinched back in shock and hurt, but I sure as hell wasn't feeling sorry. _He_ wasn't stuck in a cat's body! I could probably claw his eyes out at that very moment and feel nothing but satisfaction.

At the moment, however, I just wanted to be left alone. I jumped off the bed which was around five times my body height off the ground with barely a second's thought (which, if anyone cared, would have left me a smear on the ground if I'd tried that as a human) and I hid under the bed.

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One day and a hairball later (those things are fucking disgusting, by the way, and they _smell_ holy shit) Tommen, as I'd overheard his name was, managed to coax me out from under the bed with some fish. I didn't know what kind it was, and I didn't care. I was hungry, and apparently being stuck in a cat made me perfectly okay with eating the fish raw.

I'm not talking sushi-raw, I'm talking _raw_ raw, like you could half-expect it to start swimming away if you put it back in the water. The cat part of me apparently loved it that way. That was another strange thing about my new situation—while I'd been robbed of my speech, I could still _think_ like a human, still rationalize, and apparently I had the same capacity for memory and problem-solving as I did before whatever fucked up surgery landed me in this body. But now I had new instincts as well.

There were the obvious changes with my enhanced senses, having much better night vision, better hearing, a better sense of smell (I was really ticked off with this one because for whatever reason the air always smelled vaguely of shit, although it was at least partially masked by perfume and burned incense), but then there was also an innate knowledge that shouldn't have come so naturally.

I somehow _knew_ how to move on four legs even better than I'd once moved on two, somehow _knew_ how to jump up on things that were many times my height. I knew how to climb, how to stalk, and how to fight with my claws and teeth. It seemed I had all the skills of a cat with none of the actual experience.

But those were all thoughts for later. For now, fish.

I stared the big one in the eye. When I was a human I'd never really bothered to look up the different species of fish, but I had a very vague understanding of them. This one was big and red in a way that vaguely reminded me of Alaskan Salmon, but it was shaped all wrong for that. I'd say it was about two-and-a-half feet long, but my sense of depth perception seemed to have run off with my human body and I hadn't yet really learned to judge a creature's size with the same effectiveness in a cat's body.

I wondered if it was a herring or whatever, and less than a second later my aching stomach convinced me I didn't give a shit what kind of a fish it was. Fish was fish, and even better, it was _fresh_ fish.

I dug in and immediately began noisily ripping into the dead animal, sharp claws and rough pads holding it in place while my teeth made quick work of the tough, armor-like scales. I felt a hand cautiously pet the top of my head, but I ignored it. I was way too damn hungry.

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Either the surgeons who'd screwed me over by somehow transferring my brain (not to mention shrinking without damaging, which was impressive to an impossible degree) into a cat's body had sold me to a very well-funded and very elaborate recreation of Game of Thrones, or my entire situation was so much worse than I thought it was.

Yeah, I'd known my name was supposed to be Ser Pounce, and yeah, I found out my supposed owner's name was Tommen, but I'd been a bit more preoccupied with the fact that I was a fucking cat to put two and two together.

I was kind of bored after just hiding under the bed for a day before I finally broke down and let the kid feed me. I guess I was more of an outdoor cat? Or maybe it was the result of staying in an enclosed space for too long? I dunno. But regardless, I stayed put. I was in an unfamiliar environment in a _completely_ unfamiliar body with absolutely no way to explain the current situation, so taking action really didn't seem like a good idea at the time.

Tommen took matters into his own hands, though, and scooped me up in his chubby arms right after I finished eating the fish. I protested with a small yowl before I saw the oddly determined look in his eyes, then settled for shifting around in his hold to get a more comfortable position as he took me out of the room.

I could've attacked him and possibly scarred him for life, but I chose not to. The thing was Tommen wasn't a _bad_ kid, really, even if my suspicions of him working with or enabling the sick fucks who'd done this to me still lingered. I mean, he fed me when I was hungry, cleaned up after me (which hadn't been easy, with me taking swipes at everyone who dared put their body parts under the bed). He even knew when I wanted him to fuck off and leave me alone, which I could tell he clearly hadn't wanted to do but made himself do anyway.

Even if it was incredibly degrading to be treated as the animal I looked like, I definitely could have had a worse owner.

The hallways were wide and decorated in the same medieval styles as the bedroom, with elaborate tapestries tacked onto stone walls, and silk curtains draped over windows of a truly stunning view. An entire city was sprawled out below. I gagged, feeling like another hairball was coming up. Holy shit, that _stench_. It was wafting through the open windows in the hallway like there was no tomorrow. I immediately struggled in Tommen's arm and tried to bolt back to his room. At least that room only had a small window sealed off with glass!

But my struggles were to no avail. Tommen only tightened his grip and scolded me in a way that would have been adorable if I wasn't still reeling from my nostrils being overwhelmed with the stench of a truly massive shithole. I think I might have actually blacked out from the smell, because the next thing I knew I was sitting in Tommen's lap, my nose still smarting from that awful experience.

Tommen, in turn, was sitting at a table, and while I couldn't see over the edge in my current position I could see a the skirt-covered legs of a girl just a bit smaller than Tommen sitting to his left, and a large, fat man to Tommen's right at the head of the table dressed in black trousers and what I assumed would continue to be a gold-colored shirt the rest of the way up. Across from Tommen was a woman who was wearing a red dress of some sort that looked unnecessarily fancy with red and gold patterns that I didn't bother to really look at. Next to her sat what I assumed was a boy, older or taller than Tommen (probably both) with crisp gold pants and a similarly colored shirt.

What was it with these people and gold? Didn't they ever get sick of the color?

The table was mostly silent except for sounds of eating utensils hitting the plates and the occasional chewing I heard from Tommen and the girl next to us. And of course, the fat man to our right, who chewed and belched like there was no tomorrow. I waited there, not wanting to draw the attention of these people. I barely liked _Tommen_ —I sure as hell wasn't going to get involved with the kid's family who had probably been the ones to buy me in the first place.

"Perhaps, my love, you've had enough wine for today?" It was the woman across from us, speaking with reproach and poorly-concealed scorn. Jeez, how much had the fat man been drinking to make his wife sound that mad?

I nearly jumped straight off of Tommen's lap in pure surprise when the table shook without warning, and the plates and cups all clanged together. I watched as purple liquid—wine—began dripping through from the top of the table where it had probably been spilled.

The fat man stood up so quickly that his chair fell over behind him. "Ser Barristan!" I heard him snap, and wait, _what_? Being named Ser Pounce and being owned by a blond kid named Tommen was unnerving enough, but this was really freaking me out. "I will finish my meals in my chambers. Arrange it!" Fat man (he wasn't Robert until he was _proven_ to be Robert, dammit!) stormed away, and the meal was left in an even worse awkward silence than before.

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 _And who are you, the human said,  
to dare treat me this way?  
Well, I'm a cruel and petty god,  
and you are just my prey.  
I've shamelessly taken your soul,  
and used it for a game.  
A game of wars and thrones, mortal,  
Victory you must claim.  
Impossible, that's what you cried,  
You demanded to leave.  
Yet, you're still here, stuck in a cat,  
You've not a chance to flee.  
Yet, you're still here, stuck in a cat,  
You've not a chance to flee._


	2. Chapter 2

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 **Only a Cat of a Different Coat**

 **A Ser Pounce SI**

Chapter 2

Being the Prince's cat pretty much guaranteed a nice and spoiled lifestyle. Well, as much as being a cat can be called a spoiled lifestyle.

I'm more or less given free reign to go wherever I please, so long as I return to Tommen's room at night. The kid gets overly worried about me, but I can't really blame him. Not with the likes of Joffrey prowling the Red Keep. I'm given more fish than I can eat, along with whatever mice or birds I manage to murder in my spare time. That's... something that's a bit unnerving about being a cat. I am now a sociopath, apparently. I take great pleasure in toying with my prey and torturing the poor animals to death, and only realized what I'd done after the fact. Despite this realization I kept on doing it again and again, so the part of me that's trying to stay as human as possible has more or less given up.

Still, I never thought being a cat would actively turn me evil. Or maybe it just made me an active player in the food chain, rather than simply removed from it like humans tend to be. Food for thought. Ah, who am I kidding? I'm trying to justify turning into a monster.

Anyway, after the initial shock of figuring out where and when I was (which involved a mad dash through the castle with a panicked Tommen stumbling after me, right until I arrived at the foot of the monstrosity known as the iron throne), I determined that 1) this was not some dramatic recreation. It was too elaborate, too _real_ , and who the hell would pay to put some random dude's brain in a cat? Was that even possible yet?

2) It wouldn't be that long before Jon Arryn's mysterious death and the King's family traveling to Winterfell to fetch their new Hand. Could I do anything about this? Was it really in my best interest? I mean, my owner would be declared a bastard if Arryn lived, and as much as Joffrey and Cersei would have deserved it, Tommen and his sister Myrcella were innocent. I kept the Arryn situation at the back of my mind.

3) The servants love me. I seriously have no idea why. They all smile when they see me and scratch my head with dirty, calloused hands. I really don't mind them, though. They seem nice enough, and I supposed it would have been much worse if they _didn't_ like me. The nobles of the castle, on the other hand, consider me invisible. If I'm noticed at all it's because I'm in the way or because some highborn lady or other is bored and wants a distraction. So long as they're not Joffrey, I really don't care. The ladies are never overly cruel, but they are careless at times, and hold me wrong, and for whatever reason expect me to act like some bumbling kitten even though I'm full-grown.

It's sad that I have more action as a cat than I did as a human. God damn it.

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"Ser Pounce, wait!" Tommen was bent over, trying and failing to catch his breath while I waited patiently a few yards away. His chunkiness was not helping him out, that was for sure.

"Meow?" Damn, I miss being able to talk.

Tommen looked up, and his face filled with determination. He made a dash for me, and I darted out of the way and between his legs, causing him to stumble and fall over himself. He cried out in pain and pushed himself up into sitting position with a groan, and I inched a bit closer to see if he'd actually hurt himself or if it was just a bruise.

"You're too fast, Ser Pounce," Tommen complained, rubbing gingerly at his butt. I meow'd at him in what I hoped sounded like a sarcastic tone. This was a game I'd managed to prod Tommen into-catch the cat, just like Syrio made Arya do in canon. Not only would it make Tommen lose some weight and make him a bit stronger, but it also helped occupy my time. Win-win! It had taken many failed attempts at communication, but eventually he'd gotten the message and it became a daily affair.

Thankfully, his parents spent little time with the boy, so they weren't around to tell him to stop playing too often with his cat.

"What's this?" a voice sneered. "My baby brother playing with his _pet?_ "

 _... God fucking dammit.  
_  
Tommen turned white and scrambled to his feet, and I quickly went behind him and stared as Joffrey aggressively made his way over to us.

"H-Hello, Joffrey," Tommen greeted, clearly sounding like he desperately wished to be somewhere else.

Joffrey either didn't notice or didn't care. "You've always spent too much time with filthy animals, dear brother," he said, spitting the word 'brother' like it was an insult. "I, ever so concerned for my blood, have always striven to help you, have I not? When you had that wretched little fawn to take care of, I got rid of her and freed you from taking care of her! Do you remember how happy you were?"

My fur stood up on end as I bristled.

 _I really don't like where this is going...  
_  
I glanced up at Tommen. The poor kid had tears in his puffy red eyes, and his face was twisted as he desperately tried not to break down crying.

Joffrey smiled at his brother with sweet poison. "I would be most delighted to help you once more, dear little brother. A Prince of the Realm should never fall so low as to have to care for an animal. Such things are for stablehands and other lesser men. Even _peasants_." Joffrey's smile grew wider. "You're no peasant, are you?"

My first and loudest instinct was to bolt. I could see the bored resignation on Clegane's face behind Joffrey. The man didn't particularly _want_ to help kill me, but he didn't give a damn either way. Why would he? I was just a cat. If push came to shove he'd follow his orders without hesitation.

But at the same time, if I ran, I'd be leaving Tommen behind to Joffrey's mercy. And even if I was the only one in _physical_ danger at the moment (as even Clegane would stop Joffrey from hurting his siblings) I didn't feel right just abandoning the kid. He was just barely six. I couldn't do it.

Next best thing, then. Very carefully, without taking my eyes off the monster in human skin in front of us, I nipped Tommen's pants and tugged at them, catching his attention for just a moment. I meow'd at him in the same way I always did before we played catch-the-cat, and then I took off down a random hallway. I didn't have to have a cat's hearing to know that Tommen was following me, but unfortunately so was Joffrey, and behind him the Hound. It took nearly half-an-hour of nonstop running before I couldn't hear that brat's screams anymore.

I stopped, my tongue lolling out of my mouth as I tried to get rid of the excess heat. I miss being able to sweat. Do humans even know how amazingly useful sweating is? I don't think most of them do. Ungrateful bastards.

Next to me, Tommen collapsed, wheezing. We'd been playing catch-the-cat for about two months now, but even so, the kid was only six, and we'd been running really hard. I meow'd at him in concern as soon as I had the breath to spare, and Tommen smiled at me. "Don't worry, Ser Pounce. I'll never let Joffrey get you."

If I had a human face I would have smiled, but I settled for purring as he scratched me behind the ears.


	3. Chapter 3

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 **Only a Cat of a Different Coat**

 **A Ser Pounce SI**

Chapter 3

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I was still mad about being a cat, and I felt like being a dick (what? sue me), so I started sleeping on Tommen's face. He gave up after a few weak protests and drifted off. I did it to be mean and annoying, but it's actually surprisingly comfy. His face is nice and soft (in part due to his chubbiness, and in part because he's a kid), and it's pleasantly warm. What started out as a misguided attempt to lash out at my situation became a nightly routine.

And it probably wasn't a very good idea...

I woke up one morning with the Bitch Queen herself hauling me off of Tommen's face by the scruff of my neck, holding me as far away from her as possible with a pinched expression like she was holding a piece of rotten meat. I was too surprised to so much as blink, let alone try to get away. I'd been stuck as Ser Pounce for a good few months now, and Cersei Lannister had never ONCE actually come into Tommen's room. Sure, they saw each other at meals, and sometimes she'd ask after Tommen's lessons, but for the most part she reserved her affections for Joffrey.

Aaand now I was at her mercy. Fantastic. All that work to avoid Joffrey only for _this_ to happen.

"Meow?" I hazarded.

Wrong move. She wrinkled her nose and pulled back her lips in a sneer. "Such a disgusting little creature," she hissed. "How dare you try to suffocate my child?"

She tightened her grip, and I couldn't help but whimper as her nails dug into my hide. I felt a flash of anger. If she was going to kill me, I was going to claw her fucking eyes out. I would leave her scarred for LIFE, dammit! Just as I was about to go completely berserk on her, Tommen shifted below us, and both cat and woman turned to look at him.

"Mm, Ser Pounce? Where'd you-" He rubbed the sleep away from his eyes and opened them, and then let out a strangled squeak at what he saw.

Cersei didn't skip a beat, smiling beatifically at her son while tightening her grip on the back of my neck. Her sharpened nails were really starting to dig in. I _swear to God_ I was going to maim this woman. "I'm sorry I allowed this creature to harm you, Tommen," she said, her voice dripping with regret (false) and motherly love (sincere in a patronizing way). "Do not worry. This wretched cat will never harm you again."

She turned to leave with me in tow, and started walking toward the door to the hallway. Holy shit, I was about to die.

No time to think. Either die with my tail tucked between my legs, or die with my teeth and claws soaked in the blood of my enemy.

Just as I was about to go wild, Tommen called out to her. "Don't hurt him!"

Cersei paused, turned around, and pushed a strained smile to her face. "Don't worry, Sweetling. The cat will be well taken care of. You needn't worry yourself."

 _Liar!_ But god dammit, would Tommen believe her? Please don't believe her, Tommen. I don't want to die in glorious combat.

Tommen, bless his brave little heart, wriggled out of his covers and stood to face his mother with a nervous but resolute expression. "Ser Pounce is my friend! He'd never hurt me!"

Cersei's smile became even more strained. Aw, fuck. Now this was personal. Before, she'd just wanted me gone for sleeping on her son's face (which was an admittedly stupid move on my part). But now, I was the source of her child's defiance. And she couldn't have that.

"Sweetling, you should listen to mother. I know what's best for you. You know that, don't you?" she tried to 'reason' with him.

Tommen, to her immediate and obvious displeasure, didn't budge. "Ser Pounce is my friend! I don't want him to leave!"

I love this kid. If I survive this, maybe I'll even stop being a dick for no reason.

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Well, I survived, due in no small part to Tommen's timely crying fit.

Just as I was about to be taken from the room and the Realm of the Living along with it, Tommen hiccuped then started wailing about how Joffrey killed his pet fawn, and now his mother was going to kill his pet cat. Cersei is a vindictive bitch with an overprotective streak a mile wide concerning her precious firstborn, but even _she_ flinched at that.

She had defended Joffrey from rumors and his father's displeasure, but that didn't mean she _liked_ what her son had been doing in his spare time. And even though she had a tendency to overlook the way Joffrey treated his younger siblings, it didn't mean she actually _approved_.

It's a flimsy excuse for her, I know, but it saved my ass so I'm not complaining.

Cersei winced at the accusation, too subtly for a child as young as Tommen to notice (especially while he was crying), and knelt down so she could look him in the eyes. Her hold on me relaxed a great deal, so she must have forgotten she was carrying me. I braced myself for a surprise escape attempt at the first opportunity.

"Sweetling," she cooed, her voice so kind and gentle that it made more sense to think she was another person altogether. "Come now, no need to cry. Dry your tears."

"B-But, you're taking Ser Pounce away," Tommen gasped through his sobs. Man, the kid was a messy crier. Big sloppy tears, puffy eyes, and a runny nose. It was endearing _now_ , I guess, but hopefully he'd grow out of it. Or maybe not, considering just how effective the display was proving to be on Cersei.

"No, my son," Cersei comforted with a loving smile, absently lifting a hand away from holding me to caress Tommen's face. "No one shall take your pet away."

. . . Did I just fall under Cersei Lannister's protection?

Tommen looked up, tried and failed to blink away his tears, then hiccuped a question. "Not even Joffrey?"

Ooh, and there's the million-dollar-question. But can she keep _Joffrey_ in check? _Will_ she keep Joffrey in check?

Cersei's smile froze on her face, becoming brittle and tense. But even she couldn't help but falter at the naked _hope_ in her son's eyes. Her expression grew more and more resigned until her shoulders fell in defeat. "Your pet is safe, from everyone," she relented. "But you must not let the creature sleep on you ever again. Such things are not becoming of a young prince."

Yeah, the whole sleeping on Tommen's face thing? That was going to stop if I wanted to keep living, even if it was only as a cat.

Tommen wasn't listening to the last part, practically leaping forward to hug his mother as soon as he'd realized I wasn't about to die.

He inadvertently squished me between them in the process. I meowed in slight protest, and out of nothing but spite Cersei dug her nails into me before letting me go, causing me to hiss in anger as I fled under Tommen's bed. I couldn't even retaliate without giving her a reason to put me down.

Fucking hell.

One day, Cersei. One day.


End file.
